


do you got room for one more troubled soul?

by heklin



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-High School, Road Trips, or technically friends with benefits to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 15:36:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15270666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heklin/pseuds/heklin
Summary: Evan and Connor go on a road trip.





	do you got room for one more troubled soul?

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: suicidal thoughts, implied/referenced self-harm. if I'm missing anything, please lmk and I'll add it

Evan thought that graduating would make most of his problems go away.

He knows it’s stupid of him to have thought that. He knows he’s mentally ill and he _knows_ the fact that he’s done with high school won’t change that. (After all, his issues have always been a lot more complex than just the stress that comes with having to do things like presentations on Daisy Buchanan in front of his entire English class. His issues _also_ include impulsive thoughts and bad decisions and lies, and that nagging voice at the back of his head that likes to tell him everyone would be better off if he were dead.)

He knows, and yet he’s still disappointed, because he hoped to be doing at least a _little_ bit better by now.

It’s fall. He’s taking a gap year. He has a job at Pottery Barn. His mom is working part time as a paralegal and part time as a nurse’s aid at the hospital, though she now takes shorter and less frequent shifts there. They have movie nights twice a week.

Things shouldn’t be so bad.

But they are.

Evan can’t shake the feeling that he’s stuck. Everyone around him seems to be starting new chapters of their lives and accomplishing great things. Jared is majoring in game design at their local university. Alana is attending an Ivy League out of state, and she’s already involved in like five different clubs and organizations, and working on starting a few of her own. Zoe’s a senior in high school now, and she’s doing pretty good, too. She knows exactly what she wants to do in life. She and Alana are in a long distance relationship, and they seem really cute together.

Everyone is _doing_ things and being happy and he’s just. Standing still. Watching from the sidelines.

Spiraling into one of the worst depressive episodes of his life.

So when Connor shows up to his house one day in late September and says, “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Evan doesn’t even think twice before replying, “I’m coming with you.”

(He became friends with Connor sometime around the middle of their senior year. They were paired up to do a Government project together. They met at Evan’s house after school for a few days to work on it, and then when it was done, Connor just...kept coming over. And Evan didn’t question it, because he was too intimidated by Connor to say anything, and also because he was home alone most nights, so having someone over was kind of nice.

Their friendship was awkward and tension-filled at first, with lots of stuttering and worrying and little white lies on Evan’s part and lots of anger and storming out of rooms on Connor’s part. But after they finally passed the off-and-on phase, they realized that they fit together really well. And that despite how it might look to someone on the outside, the two of them were not really that different. In fact, they had a whole lot in common.

Connor is the only person who seems to be in the same place as him. They’re both stuck.

After graduation, he told Evan about this “backup plan” he had: if things got too shitty, he was going to get in his car and just drive across the country, and he wouldn’t come back until—

Well. There was no “until.” He said he probably just wouldn’t come back.)

Now, Evan looks at him standing hunched over on the front doorstep, looks at the dark circles under his eyes and the messiness of his hair and the beginnings of stubble on his chin and all of these things put together equal how he immediately knew that “I’m leaving tomorrow” means Connor is putting his backup plan into action.

Connor blinks. “What?”

“I’m—” Evan takes a deep breath. “I wanna come with you. I need to get out of here too.”

Connor lifts his chin and stares down at him, like he’s trying to figure something out. Then finally he shoves his hands in his pockets, nods and says, “Okay. Uh, pack a bag and I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

Evan nods hard, locking his fingers together and cracking his knuckles. Nervous habit.

Connor is looking at Evan’s hands now. “Don’t flake,” he says.

“I’m not going to,” Evan says, indignant.

Connor cracks a tiny smile as he turns and walks back to his car. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye!” Evan replies, and winces at his awkwardness as Connor drives away.

Evan’s stomach swoops as he heads up to his room and begins putting clothes into an old duffel bag he finds at the back of his closet. Then he gets all the money—saved up from years of birthdays and holidays where his relatives had no idea what to get him as gifts, and instead just gave him cash stuffed into envelopes—from the box he keeps in his desk drawer, and shoves that in, too. He has more in the bank, from his job, but for now this should be enough. It’s not like he’s going to be gone forever.

Speaking of his job, fuck. He can’t just _leave_ , he has a shift tomorrow afternoon, what was he thinking, his boss is going to _kill him_ , he’s going to get fired—

Then he remembers all the middle-aged women yelling at him for things that are beyond his control, the number of the anxiety attacks he’s had in the break room, the way his back always aches nowadays from lifting and carrying heavy boxes, the way his fingers get all dirty and blackened after having to man the cash register and handle money. He hates his job, he realizes. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to quit.

But. He’s supposed to leave two weeks notice, isn’t he? He doesn’t have two weeks. Connor is leaving tomorrow with or without him.

He’s starting to panic about it, but then he thinks, _what are they gonna do if I_ don’t _leave two weeks notice? Fire me?_

The idea of getting fired doesn’t fill him up with dread so much now that he knows he doesn’t even want the job anymore. Now that he knows he has an out.

Of course, there are still the gears and shit turning frantically in his head as he thinks about money. More specifically, about how much he _needs_ the money and how he really can’t afford to lose the job right now especially if he wants to keep saving up for college. But he sweeps all those thoughts to the side as best as he can. He’ll worry about it later.

(“Just worry about it later” has never really worked for him in the past, but it’s going to have to now, because he literally can’t dwell on these things or else he’ll chicken out and do exactly what Connor told him not to do: flake.)

Evan goes to bed early—he has nothing better to do—but he probably only gets around three hours of sleep, because he lies awake for most of the night thinking about Connor and new beginnings and the possibility of things maybe turning out okay.

Around six in the morning, Connor texts him: **outside**

 **ok give me like two minutes** , Evan replies.

Evan puts on a jacket and grabs the duffel bag before heading downstairs. His mom came home sometime around midnight, and she's conked out on the couch. Evan smiles a little bit when he sees her. She’s still in her scrubs, and snoring softly.

In the kitchen, he takes two boxes of granola bars and some water bottles from the pantry and shoves them into a grocery bag. Then he gets a sheet of paper from the notepad his mom keeps on the counter and begins to write.

 _Mom_ —

_I’m leaving for a while. Connor’s coming with me. Or, well, technically I guess I’m going with him_

Evan scribbles that out with a frown, then crumples up the sheet of paper and just starts over on another page.

 _Mom_ —

_I’m leaving for a while. Connor has this plan for if things get bad, and things are kind of bad right now, so...I’m going on a road trip with him. I don’t know where we’re going, or how long we’re going to be gone, and I know that’s probably going to make you worried (because worrying is what Hansens do best!), but please DON’T worry about me. I’m okay. And if I’m not totally okay right now, then I’m going to be. I just need to get out of my head and I think that going with him might help._

_I love you. You’re the best mom in the world._

_Evan_

He leaves the note on the coffee table. It’s definitely not the greatest way to say goodbye to her, but he knows that if he stays and waits till she wakes up to talk to her about it face to face, she’ll get that sad disappointed mom look on her face and he’ll feel really guilty and probably cry, and he won’t be able to handle it and he’ll end up staying here at home and eventually he’ll be brainstorming ways to off himself again.

Connor’s car is parked in the driveway. It’s a piece of junk, honestly, and Evan kind of wonders how it’s going to last them the trip.

Connor’s dad bought the car during junior year, used (which didn't make sense to Evan since the Murphys could obviously afford a new car—but apparently it was to teach Connor a lesson about responsibility, or something), and Connor had hated it at first because he hates everything that has to do with his dad, like, on principle. But then he fixed it up and kind of fell in love with it. Evan’s pretty sure this shitty old car is Connor’s pride and joy. He even _named_ it (Hayley), which is kind of ridiculous and kind of cute.

Connor hands him a cup of coffee when he sits down.

“Thanks,” Evan says with a smile.

Connor’s mouth quirks to the side, one dimple making an appearance. “No problem,” he says. He looks tired, and his voice is a little scratchy like it gets in the mornings. He puts his hand on the back of Evan’s headrest, twisting around in his seat to reverse out of the driveway. “You took a while though, so it might be cold by now.”

“Sorry,” Evan says, feeling his face go red. He wraps his hands tightly around the cup, trying to warm his fingers.

Connor shakes his head as they exit the neighborhood. “Rule number one of this trip—no apologizing.”

A laugh bubbles out of Evan as he stares at Connor, who seems completely serious. “What?”

“Like, you can’t say sorry for every little thing.”

“Wh—I just—I felt bad for making you wait!”

Connor rolls his eyes, reaching for his own cup. “Okay, fine.” He takes a long sip. “But if you apologize all the time like you usually do, I’m gonna have to kick you out of the car.”

Evan opens his mouth, then closes it, resisting the urge to say _okay, sorry._ He looks down at his lap, then out the window.

Connor glances over at him. “I’m not actually going to kick you out of the car,” he says, and does he sound a little flustered? “Just, uh, wanted to make sure you knew I was. Kidding.”

Evan gives a small grin. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Good,” Connor says, eyes on the road again.

Evan finishes his coffee. The sun comes up, and the clouds turn yellow and pink. They drive in comfortable silence aside from the sound of the road beneath them, and Connor’s phone plugged into the AUX, playing songs by their favorite bands.

-

Connor’s phone won’t stop ringing.

They’ve been driving for maybe four hours now, and so far he’s gotten at least eight phone calls—not that Evan’s counting or anything—and has ignored every single one of them.

The next time it rings, Evan says tentatively, “Maybe you should answer that?”

Connor glances over at him, then looks away, sets his jaw stubbornly, and doesn’t reply.

Evan sighs and decides to let it go.

Another hour passes. Connor’s phone rings for the literal tenth time, and then _again,_ and Evan can tell that he’s growing increasingly frustrated. “Do you want me to—I can put it on silent if you want? And we could listen to the radio instead.”

Connor inhales loudly. Exhales. Pulls over and parks, and yeah, Evan is definitely freaking out now.

Connor grabs his phone and gets out of the car.

Then he faces the treeline on the other side of the road, pulls back his arm, and throws the phone as hard as he can.

When he gets back into the car, he says turns to Evan and says, eerily calm, “I need to borrow your phone.”

Evan can’t help but snort. “Hahaha, yeah, okay, here you go,” he says sarcastically, voice kind of shrill, clutching his phone to his chest.

Connor groans as if Evan’s being ridiculous—which is unbelievable, because _Connor_ is the one who just chucked his phone into the forest. “Dude, come on.”

“No!”

Connor leans forward, putting all of his weight onto the steering wheel, making the horn give a loud honk that lasts for at least ten seconds.

“ _Connor,_ ” Evan says, bewildered and entirely out of his element.

Connor sits back and crosses his arms. “I need to call Zoe back.”

“Why didn’t you just pick up when she—”

“I don’t have time to dwell on all my fucking mistakes!”

“You _threw your phone into the forest!”_

“Yeah, _and_ _?”_

Evan stares at him for a long, hard moment. “I’ll give it to you if you promise not to throw it.”

“I promise not to throw your fucking phone,” Connor says.

Evan hands it over reluctantly, still not really convinced. But then Connor’s flashing him a quick, radiant grin as he gets out of the car again, and Evan completely forgets what he was even worried about in the first place.

While Connor’s on the phone, Evan looks through the CDs in the glove compartment. The conversation with Zoe sounds heated. Connor kicks the side of the car a few times, making Evan wince.

He watches as Connor hangs up and then stands there for a minute or so, breathing hard and gripping the phone so tight his knuckles are pale. Before he gets back in, he sort of strokes the hood of the car and mutters, “Sorry Hayley.”

Evan has to stifle a laugh.

“Wanna talk about it?” Evan asks him, once they’ve been driving again for about five minutes.

Connor deflects Evan’s question with one of his own. “Did you tell your mom where you are?”

“I, um. I left her a note.”

“Jesus.”

Evan clenches his jaw, ignoring the guilt curling in the pit of his stomach. “What’d Zoe say?”

He’s pressing.

He knows he shouldn’t be.

Connor turns the radio on and adjusts the volume to the highest it can go.

Evan swallows and turns his head to look out the window. There’s nothing but open fields on either side of the road.

He doesn’t know what he thought things would be like on a road trip with Connor, but...this isn’t it.

-

Connor doesn’t stop driving until they’re in the next state. It’s around seven thirty when he exits the highway and parks in front of a rest stop.

Evan practically scrambles out of the car, feeling restless and itchy and like he’s suffocating. His legs seem to cry out in relief, happy to be stretched out after sitting still for such a long period of time.

Connor crosses his arms tightly, hunching in on himself like he’s trying to make himself smaller. The evening light illuminates his hair from behind, turning the brown a yellow-ish gold. He looks upset. “We’re stopping here for the night,” he says. “There isn’t a motel anywhere nearby, so we’ll have to sleep in the car. Sorry.”

“Okay,” Evan says, confused. Then he tries to joke, “Isn’t rule number one no apologies?”

Connor doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s staring down at his feet. “I’ll drive you back home tomorrow.”

And now Evan’s about ten times more confused, because _what?_ “What?”

“This was a bad idea.”

Evan’s heart drops into his stomach. “Oh,” he says, voice sounding far away to his own ears.

Connor turns and walks a few feet away. “Yeah, uh. I don’t know why I thought...” He laughs bitterly. “I mean, why would you want to sit in my piece-of-shit car for hours and put up with all my bullshit?”

“Wait, no,” Evan says, because this is wrong, Connor has it all wrong. “I don’t—you—you think I don’t wanna be here?”

Connor whirls around. “Well, _yeah_.”

“Why would you think that?” Evan exclaims.

“Because!” Connor throws up his hands. “You’re _you_ and I’m me and this is fucking _awkward_ and it just sucks!”

That’s...a lot to unpack. Evan twists his hands into the hem of his T-shirt and tugs hard. “Okay,” he says. “Rule number two is that we have to talk things out.”

Connor looks even more annoyed. “What are you talking about?”

“So that it isn’t awkward anymore!”

“You...” Connor huffs and makes his way back to the car. He half sits, half leans on the hood, and Evan steps closer to him hesitantly. “You’re gonna have to spell this out for me.”

“I want to be here,” Evan says firmly. “I swear.” He reaches for Connor’s arm, brushes his fingers against his sleeve. Connor stares down at Evan’s hand. There’s a long few seconds of silence.

“Okay,” he says shakily. “I’ll sleep in the front. You can take the backseat.”

-

Things are better after that.

When Evan asks again about what Connor talked to Zoe about on the phone, Connor answers honestly, and with minimal angry pauses. (Progress.) He tells Evan that Zoe’s pissed at him for leaving without telling her, and also pissed at him for leaving without _her._ She’s kind of just mad at him for leaving in general.

“Did she know you were planning on doing this?” Evan asks.

“Obviously not,” Connor snaps.

Evan stares down at his lap. “I meant, did she know _about_ it? Like, that it was an idea you’ve had for a while?”

Connor pauses. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “I’m always having conversations with her in my head and then I feel like I can’t remember what I’ve actually told her in real life.”

Evan smiles. “I get that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I do that with my mom. I always argue with her in my head, and then sometimes when I see her I think she’s mad at me and get like paralyzed with fear but then I have to remind myself that it never really happened.”

Connor snorts and reaches over to change the radio station a few times before settling on a song Evan recognizes. “Hey, this is your favorite band, right?”

“Yeah,” Evan says with a grin, pleasantly surprised that Connor remembered.

-

While Evan likes granola bars, he can only live off of them for so long. Luckily, Connor seems to be thinking the same thing, because after a couple of days, he stops at a gas station and declares, “We need snacks.”

He strides out of the car and Evan clambers out after him, and they enter what might be the nicest gas station convenience store that Evan’s ever been to. Which is surprising, because it’s quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

“‘Scuse me,” Evan mumbles as he squeezes past a guy standing near the soft drinks. The guy looks up, blinks twice, as if he’s seeing straight through Evan, and then just turns away.

“This is weird,” Connor whispers as he grabs a few bottles of Pepsi, eyeing the cashier suspiciously.

“Yeah,” Evan agrees. There’s something unsettling about the whole thing.

They quickly gather up as much junk food as they can carry to the counter, and there’s a short argument because Connor doesn’t want to let Evan pay, but he shuts his mouth when he notices that the cashier giving them a very strange look. So he pays for half and lets Evan pay for the other half, and when the cashier asks if they’d like bags, Evan squeaks, “Nope, no thank you,” and the two of them hightail out of there with everything piled up in their arms.

Once they’re in the car, Evan feels a little bit stupid about freaking out, but at least he wasn’t the only one. Plus, hey, it’s the middle of the night, and they’re both sleep deprived. It’s okay to be a little paranoid.

Connor starts laughing as he pulls out of the parking lot. “Oh my fucking god.”

“That guy just _stared_ at me,” Evan says, tapping his fingers restlessly on his lap.

“Why was he just standing there?” Connor says. They’re on the highway again. Evan breathes out.

“Do you know what liminal spaces are?”

“Uh, I mean, I think I’ve heard of them.”

“Okay, so like, they’re basically these places where reality feels altered. Waiting rooms, hotels, rest stops—”

“Gas stations?”

“Yeah,” Evan grins. “I read somewhere that it’s like, a threshold. You feel really off when you’re in those places, because they exist for things that come before or after them.”

Connor is quiet for a second, and then he snorts. “I don’t think it was that deep. I think it was just...I don’t know. People have weird experiences on road trips, y’know?”

Evan shrugs, still smiling a little.

Weird would be an understatement if used to describe this trip as a whole. Weird would be an understatement if used to describe whatever is going on between him and Connor.

It feels like they’re dancing around something.

-

“Pass me the chips,” Connor says.

Evan reaches into the backseat, grabs the closest bag of Lays and hands it to him. Connor grins a little bit, a crooked but beautiful thing. Evan grins back.

-

“You named your car after the lead singer of Paramore?” Evan asks incredulously. It’s the beginning of October, and they’re at a diner in South Carolina.

“Yeah?” Connor says slowly. “You knew this already.”

“I didn’t!” Evan exclaims with a grin. Connor ducks his head, cheeks turning pink. “I thought you just really liked the name Hayley or something. I didn’t know it was Hayley _Williams._ ”

“I was going through an emo phase,” Connor says defensively.

“You got the car _last year._ ”

There’s a long pause. “I said what I said,” Connor mumbles around a mouthful of waffles, and Evan laughs loudly and unashamedly.

-

“I feel bad,” Evan speaks up one morning.

Connor glances over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“Like—” Evan sighs and lets his head thunk against the window. Trees pass by in his peripheral vision. “You’re doing all the driving.”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause it’s not like you can,” Connor says pointedly.

Evan chews on the inside of his cheek. It’s true—he never learned how to drive. The very thought of it makes him feel nauseous and sweaty and stressed him out beyond belief, and he kept putting it off, and then put it off some more, and then...well.

After he got the job at Pottery Barn, his mom started suggesting driver’s ed classes again, but he had violent panic attacks almost every time she brought it up. So she let it go, and he walked to and from work, or took the bus, and everything was just much easier that way.

“Still,“ he says quietly, drawing little shapes in the condensation on his window. It’s cold and rainy outside, and his hand shakes slightly.

Connor is quiet for a minute, and then, “What if you could?”

“What?”

“What if you _could_ drive? I can teach you, if you want.”

Evan blinks. The tree he was drawing gets wiped away as he sits up, suddenly filled with that familiar, horrible panic. “No no no, I couldn’t—I can’t, I mean, there’s no way I could, it’s not a good idea, I’d be a terrible—a _really_ bad driver—”

“Please calm down,” Connor says, voice strained. “If you freak out, I’ll freak out, and I’ll have to pull over until we both calm down and then we’ll never make it to the—chewy forest before dark.”

“Chattahoochee National Forest,” Evan corrects faintly. He closes his eyes, wrings his hands, thinks about hiking with Connor, being surrounded by greenery and breathing in the fresh air...

He exhales, suddenly feeling a little at ease.

“It was just an idea,” Connor is saying. “No, uh, pressure or anything, seriously.” He pauses, then adds, “I like driving.”

Which can’t be _entirely_ true, Evan knows. Connor likes the freedom and independence that comes with being able to drive, but he definitely gets tired and cranky when driving for such long periods of time, and he isn’t getting enough rest. His eyes have been pretty bloodshot for the last few days.

So while the concept of learning to drive fills Evan up with fear, he thinks he can suck it up. To make things easier for Connor.

“No, it’s...I would like that,” Evan says, trying for a smile.

Connor grins a little, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

They make it to their destination in Georgia around one in the afternoon, but by then it’s pouring, the rain coming down in heavy sheets. So instead of the hike Evan had planned, they end up spending the day in a motel, watching old movies on TV and eating vending machine food.

It’s a small town, and they stay there for two days. Even though Evan says he’s okay with moving on to the next place, Connor insists on staying until the weather gets nicer.

“You wanted to do naturey shit, we’re gonna do naturey shit,” he says, and then shuts the door to his room, leaving Evan standing in the hallway trying to decide if he should feel hurt or touched.

On the third day, the sun appears. The weather is still kind of chilly, but it’s not raining and it doesn’t look like it’s going to again anytime soon, so they head out.

Evan honestly has an amazing time. As they begin their hike, Connor tells him about how his family used to do stuff like this all the time. He tells the story of the time Zoe almost knocked their mom off of a cliff trying to get a picture of the view. He talks about how the last time they went skiing, he got high with one of the skiing instructors, and when his dad found out, he was so mad that he threw a pair of goggles across the room, which only narrowly avoided hitting Connor in the eye.

“What’s the worst trip you’ve ever been on with your family?” Evan asks.

“Oh, this is a great story,” Connor begins with a grin. “Okay, so, my mom and Zoe really wanted to go to the beach one summer. I think I was in like, sixth grade. Anyway, my dad’s really anal about getting to places on time, and he kept telling us we had to get up super early so that we could get there when it wasn’t too busy. And my mom really wanted to see the sunrise. So we all wake up at like four in the morning and drive out to this beach that has like a park and stuff next to it, and we get there around six. But there’s this line of cars outside the entrance. My dad gets out of the car to find out what’s going on, and he comes back with like, steam coming out of his ears. Turns out they don’t open the gates till eight. So we all sat in the car for two more hours while my parents screamed at each other, and then when they finally started letting cars in, my dad decided he didn’t want to go to the beach after all, and he turned the car around and just drove back. Zoe cried the entire way home.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. And he and the park ranger lady were so pissed at each other. He kept getting out of the car every ten minutes to argue with her.” Connor pauses and takes a breath. “What’s _your_ worst family vacation?”

Evan doesn’t even have to think twice about it. “Um, when I was in second grade my parents took me to Disney World? And my dad was in a bad mood the entire trip and for some reason wouldn’t let us go to Harry Potter World, which is what I wanted to see the most. Also he kept yelling at me and my mom the whole time, and he made me cry in front of the Disney castle. Like, full-on, ugly sobbing. I think that might have been the first panic attack I ever had? And it’s funny because I don’t even remember the _reason_ he was so pissed off.”

“Most magical place in the world!” Connor says sarcastically. Then, “Dads ruin everything.”

Evan laughs. He can’t really argue with that.

They take a break when they arrive at a small waterfall. Connor leans against a rock for a few seconds, taking sips from his water bottle, and then he’s pulling his shirt up over his head and striding towards the water.

“What are you doing?” Evan squeaks.

Connor rolls his eyes as he takes his pants and shoes off too, chucking them in Evan’s direction. “Becoming one with nature,” he says dryly.

“You’ll get sick!”

Connor is standing directly under the fall now, getting soaked. He scrubs both hands over his face and grins wide. “The water’s actually not that cold,” he calls. “Come on, live a little!”

Evan wants to join him. He really does. But he suddenly can’t stop thinking about how Connor would react to seeing him shirtless. _He’s going to see how chubby your stomach is and how hairy your chest is and he’s going to see your scar up close, the ugly jagged one from when you broke your arm and the bone pierced through the skin, he’s going to laugh and make fun of you and_...

Evan pauses and looks at Connor. Really looks at him.

Connor’s hair is dripping, plastered to his neck and shoulders. He’s tall and skinny and he has an objectively nice body, but it’s unproportional in some ways, like his arms are a little too long and his knees seem too big and knobby for his legs. He has a lot of hair on his lower legs but barely any on his thighs. His feet are kind of funny looking. His arms are covered in scars, some white, some pink, some raised, some not. All crisscrossing, overlapping. All old.

He has tons of imperfections, but he isn’t trying to hide them.

Evan takes his own shirt off, laughing at the loud whoop he gets in response, and joins Connor under the spray of water.

-

Connor teaches him how to drive. In parking lots at first, and then when Evan starts getting the hang of it, they venture out onto the streets of whatever town they’re stopping in at the moment. Connor definitely isn’t the best teacher—he loses his patience a lot, and sometimes Evan thinks he might yell at him or even throw him out of the car. But Evan pushes past the anxiety and the fear and learns anyway, despite all odds, and within a few weeks he’s okay with driving for long periods of time. Most of the time, the road is straight for miles and miles, so it’s easy to at least _fake_ being comfortable behind the wheel.

“Oh, it’s this next exit,” Connor tells him somewhere in Louisiana.

“Could you tell me where we’re going?” Evan asks nervously, tightening his grip on the wheel.

“There’s a really good donut shop here that I wanna go to,” Connor replies. He has a map spread out in his lap, and a little book in his hand titled _100 Restaurants, Diners, Bakeries, and More: To Visit While On Your Road Trip Across the States._ Evan wonders if Connor’s had that book this whole time or if he bought it in one of the cities they stopped in.

They get lost for a good twenty minutes before Evan finally finds the place. It’s tiny but cute, with chipped, pale yellow paint and a sign in the window that says “Donut worry, be happy!”

Evan gets maple glazed, while Connor gets something with tons of icing and Fruity Pebbles on top. Upon finding out the store also has fresh kolaches, he buys a bag of those too, and shares half with Evan.

They walk around while they eat, peering through the windows of stores nearby, and stopping at an art market, where Connor talks to a lot of different artists. Though his expression is mostly serious, his eyes light up, and he gestures animatedly when discussing something that he really likes.

Evan can’t seem to stop staring at him.

-

Connor has some issues.

Evan knows this. He’s known for a while, ever since they first became friends. But there are some instances on their trip where he seriously worries about it.

One time, for example, Connor pulls over and stays very still, blinking fast. He doesn’t say anything. He looks like he’s checked out, like he's somewhere miles and miles away.

“What is it?” Evan asks tentatively.

Connor seems to shake himself. “I’m good,” he mumbles, and goes to start the car again, but Evan stops him, touching his arm.

“Um, no,” he says firmly. “We’re going to talk about whatever’s bothering you. It’s one of the rules.”

Suddenly there are tears streaming down Connor’s face, and he’s shaking and covering his face and breathing hard, his entire body wracked with sobs. He just. Breaks down. Evan stares for a second, frozen and utterly bewildered, before he unbuckles his seatbelt and wraps his arms around Connor, hugging him tight.

Evan doesn’t know when he starts crying too, or _why_ exactly he’s crying, but he is.

Later, they don’t end up talking about it after all—they just cling to each other for a while and then they wipe their eyes and Evan gets into the driver’s seat, and they pretend it never happened.

Another time, they’re standing at the side of the road staring up at the stars, which are so much clearer than Evan’s ever seen them, like, there are _so many_ of them, and Connor blurts out that sometimes he has the urge to crash the car. The impulse, more like. And he says, “I think that if you weren’t here with me, I would have done it by now.”

And he goes on to say that he kind of wishes he never existed.

Evan stays quiet until long after he’s done, and then whispers, “I get it.”

Sometimes there’s nothing more to say than that. Sometimes there’s nothing more a person can do than say _something,_ anything, and hope the other person understands what they really mean.

Evan says three words but he wants to say three _different_ ones.

(Three words that mean everything, but would probably ruin this thing they have going for them right now.)

He hesitantly kisses Connor on the cheek, and then rests his chin on Connor’s shoulder for a minute.

They stare up at the sky again, exhaling in unison.

Two hearts in tandem.

-

Evan has so many missed calls and unread text messages that he keeps his phone off most of the time.

But the music on the radio sucks lately, and they obviously don’t have Connor’s phone, and Evan would like to be able to play some decent music (he’s honestly pretty proud of his music taste), which means sooner or later he has to turn on his phone so that they can plug it into the AUX, which means he’s going to have to answer his texts and listen to all the voicemails his mom and his friends have been leaving him.

After the tenth or so awful country song of the day, he decides on sooner rather than later.

They check into a motel in the evening and go to their separate rooms, and Evan tries not to think about how Connor seems like he’s in a strange mood. He turns his phone on, sits on the bed, and waits.

Jared calls first.

Evan picks up.

To say the very least, Jared is mad. He interrogates and yells at Evan for maybe five minutes, but it feels like much longer. Hours, maybe. “You could have _talked_ to me, dude.”

“What?” Evan says, blinking rapidly.

“I thought you said you’d tell me,” Jared says, and he sounds genuinely hurt, “if things started getting bad again.”

“They’re not—things are fine, Jared! I’m fine. I promise.”

“You _ran away_ from home, dude.”

“I did not r—”

“No, fuck you, you _literally_ ran away from home. With fucking Connor! And your mom’s like, devastated, by the way, you know that right? She calls me almost every day to ask if you’ve gotten back to me yet.”

Evan is silent for a long time. His chest feels too tight.

The weight of what he’s done is fully hitting him now.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, voice small. “I guess I didn’t think we’d be gone this long and I thought I’d...I don’t know.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, Jared, I thought being away would make me feel better, and it _has,_ honestly, it actually has, but at the same time, I miss home. I’m like, so homesick.” He pauses and thinks about it, then corrects himself. “Or maybe just...momsick.”

There’s some rustling sounds on Jared’s end. “Where are you now?”

Evan looks around the dingy little room. “At a shitty motel somewhere in west Texas,” he sighs.

“Texas?” Jared yells incredulously. “Dude, what the fuck? Why the fresh hell would you want to go to Texas?”

Evan shrugs, then remembers with a jolt of embarrassment that Jared can’t even see him, and says, “It’s not like I...it’s not like I know where we’re going. We just drive for a long time and then take stops in random states, um, either to sightsee or take breaks. Texas is like, not that bad, actually? It’s definitely the longest we’ve ever stayed in one state. It’s so big. I think I never really understood before just _how_ big it is.”

“Jesus,” says Jared, and Evan can’t really figure out what his tone means.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble, or uh...”

Jared is laughing now. “Dude, it’s fine. This is gonna sound weird and I’m definitely gonna regret saying it, but I missed your rambling. I miss _you_. Asshole.”

Evan grins, flopping onto his back on the stiff mattress. “I missed you too.”

“I can’t believe you ignored me for two months.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I’m still kinda pissed about it.”

“I know. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know you are,” Jared huffs. “But hey, you said you’re...uh. Doing better now?”

Evan smiles even wider. Jared is trying, and it makes him happy. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m—I mean—and Connor’s really—”

“Jesus Christ, Evan,” Jared cuts him off, laughing again. “That bad, huh?”

“What?” Evan says, confused. “It’s not—I just told you I’m a lot better.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Evan is quiet, squinting up at the ceiling and trying to figure out what the fuck Jared is talking about. Nothing comes to him.

“Oh my god, _please_ don’t act all clueless and shit! You’re not fooling anyone. Especially not me.”

“It would help if I knew _what_ you were talking about.”

Jared makes a pained noise. “Your thing with Connor!”

“My—” Evan sits up slightly. “What?”

“How you’re so in love with him? How you’ve got it _bad_ for him?”

“I’m not in love with him!” Evan protests, mostly out of instinct.

“You’re fucking with me right now, right?”

Evan’s heart is suddenly hammering and he doesn’t know why.

Except... _is_ he in love with Connor? It would explain a lot. It would explain the way his heart is threatening to pound right out of his chest. It would explain the way he feels around Connor, the way his palms seem to feel sweaty even more than usual around him, the way his cheeks heat up when Connor’s eyes are on him. The way he always seems to be thinking about kissing or hugging or _doing_ things with Connor.

The way he wants to be around Connor all the time, the way he would follow Connor everywhere he goes, just to be with him, just to be in his presence.

He _literally_ accompanied Connor on a road trip across the country.

He’s in love with Connor.

As if he’s in a cheesy soap opera or something, his phone falls from his hand and hits the carpet with a soft thud.

“Evan?” comes Jared’s voice, tinny and muted and distant. “Dude. Hellooo?”

Evan picks up the phone. His hands are shaking, so he puts the call on speaker and locks his fingers together to try and ground himself. “Yeah, sorry,” he says breathlessly. He pauses, shuts his eyes. When he opens them, he feels hot and sweaty and the room feels too stuffy and his hands, dammit, they won’t stop fucking trembling. “I...love him.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Jared says, and Evan can picture him rolling his eyes. “I gotta go, dude, my roommate’s doing this slam poetry thing at eight, and it’s all the way on the other side of campus, so I need to leave like...ten minutes ago.”

Evan laughs despite himself. “But you hate slam poetry! You said there’s no point to poetry that doesn’t rhyme.”

“And I still stand by that,” Jared says. There’s some shuffling and then a clattering sound. “It’s lame, and pretentious as fuck, and I know it’s gonna be super annoying, but I promised I’d go.” A pause, more shuffling, and then a mumbled, “Where the fuck did I put my wallet?”

Evan sighs, looking at the call duration. Just over forty minutes. “I’m kind of annoyed you’re leaving me right after telling me about my feelings for Connor.”

“Okay, one, I should _not_ have had to tell you about your _own_ feelings for him. It’s so fucking obvious. I don’t know how you didn’t realize until now.” He sighs long-sufferingly. “And two, I’m kind of annoyed at _you_ for ignoring me for two fucking months, so.”

“Touché,” Evan gets out.

Before he can apologize again, Jared says, “Call your mom, bro.”

“Okay,” Evan concedes, shutting his eyes against the wave of guilt that washes over him.

“Talk later, dick,” Jared says. “And by later, I mean within the next few days, just in case you misunderstood.” And then he hangs up.

Evan smiles a little, then pulls up his mom’s contact. He stares at the call button for a long few minutes, giving himself some time to think. About Connor, and about what he wants to say to his mom, and about what he’s going to do about like, life in general.

His mom answers on the second ring. “Evan Josiah Hansen,” she starts, and Evan winces at her tone and the use of his full name, “What the hell were you _thinking_? Do you know how _worried_ I’ve been?”

“I know,” he says quickly. He’s getting choked up all of a sudden. “I’m so, so sorry and I—I don’t know what to tell you other than that. I’m just so sorry.”

She’s silent for a long few seconds, and then she says, voice cracking, “It’s so good to hear your voice again.”

He breathes out. “You too. I mean, yours too. I miss you a lot.”

She tells him she misses him too, then asks about where he’s been and if he’s having a good time and if he’s taking care of himself. She asks if he’s talked to Jared or Alana or Zoe yet. She asks about Connor, and how things are going with them.

Unfortunately, she has to go much sooner than either of them would like. “I expect you to call me much more often from now on, okay?” she says firmly, and then sniffles so quietly that Evan probably wouldn’t have picked up on it, had he not been so guilt-ridden.

“Yeah, I will. I’ll call you tomorrow night if I can, I promise.”

“I love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most. Stay safe, I’ll talk to you soon.”

The conversation leaves Evan feeling about ten times more refreshed. It’s like a giant weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Now that that’s done, he decides to go see if Connor’s awake.

He goes out into the hallway and waits outside the door to Connor’s room, and before he even gets the chance to knock, it’s swinging open, and there’s Connor. He’s in sweatpants and a faded black T-shirt. His face is open and surprised and beautiful.

Evan kisses him on impulse.

Connor hesitates before kissing back. His hand comes up to cradle the back of Evan’s head.

And then he pulls Evan inside.

-

It doesn’t happen again until a week later, when they check into a hotel in Santa Fe.

They haven’t talked about it. Like, at all.

Evan’s been understandably very anxious regarding the whole situation, but somehow, things haven’t been weird between them? In fact, Connor has been more relaxed since that night. He seems a little more carefree, his posture looser, his smile coming easier to him.

Anyways, a week later—five days, not like Evan’s counting or anything—they’re standing at the front desk at a pretty decent hotel that Connor picked out (which is definitely not the norm for them; up until now they’ve been sleeping in the car for the most part, and crappy motels when they get sick of that), and when the clerk asks if they’d like two rooms, Connor shakes his head, hair falling in front of his face, and says, “Uh, just one, please.”

Evan gawks at him, but Connor doesn’t look back. Not even a glance. He gives the desk clerk the tiniest of grins when she hands them the room key and then starts towards the elevators, calling over his shoulder, “You coming or not?”

Evan follows, dumbfounded.

It’s like something big is happening again but he doesn’t know what.

As soon as the elevator doors close, Connor is pressing him up against the wall and kissing him, softly at first, and then with a sudden ardor that knocks the breath right out of Evan and makes his hands curl into fists, almost involuntarily, to drag Connor closer by the front of his shirt. A rush of excitement bubbles up in his chest as Connor’s grip tightens on the back of his neck.

There’s a  _ding,_ and then Evan pulls away reluctantly, breathing hard. The doors open.

They somehow make it to the room in one piece. _Their_ room.

“There’s only one bed,” is the first thing that comes out of Evan’s mouth—even though he already assumed that would be the case.

Connor sits down on said bed, lips ticking upwards slightly. “Yeah, uh. Is that okay?”

Evan makes his way over and sits down too. Connor is looking at the painting on the wall in front of them. Their thighs brush together, and Evan vividly remembers the way Connor touched him just minutes before.

“I saw this movie once,” he says, willing his voice to not crack, and in the corner of his eye he sees Connor shift to face him. “I forget what it was, but there was a scene where they’re in a hotel room and they said that all hotel room paintings have even better art on the back? Like, graffiti, I guess. So they took down the painting in their room to check, and either there was some cool stuff on the back, or—or there wasn’t, so they drew some of their own.”

“You wanna take it down and see?” Connor asks after a beat of silence.

Evan runs his hand over the sheets. “No,” he says, turning and peering up at Connor through his lashes. “No, um, I kinda had some other ideas.”

Connor’s mouth is on his in an instant, and then on his neck.

“Tell me about some of them?” he says against Evan’s jaw.

-

“Can you please stop?” Evan blurts out, eyes squeezed shut and voice a little too loud. It’s a few days later. They’re nearing the border to Arizona, and they’ve been in the car for six hours, and Connor has been fidgeting almost the entire time. Tapping his fingers to the beat of the music, drumming his fingers against the wheel, cracking his knuckles, biting his nails.

It’s a lot.

Connor looks over. “Uh, stop the car?”

“No, you're—I’m sorry but it’s just that you keep doing stuff with your hands and it’s kind of driving me insane.”

“Huh,” Connor says flatly. “Is it.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Evan breathes. His face is warm.

Connor chews on his bottom lip for a moment, then looks in the side view mirror and pulls over.

“What are you...” Evan trails off as Connor unbuckles and leans over the glove compartment to lean in, so close that their noses touch. Evan thinks _oh_ and slowly moves forward, trying to meet his lips, but Connor grins and backs away, keeping an inch or so between them.

“Dude,” Evan protests, willing his voice to not come out as a whine.

“What?” Connor says. He’s dragging his fingertips up and down Evan’s side, touch feather-light, and then he rucks up Evan’s shirt a little and his hand drifts underneath. His palm is on Evan’s hip. Skin to skin. Evan wants to let Connor take his time, wants to explore every bit of him, but he also does _not_ have the patience for this.

“You obviously didn’t pull over just to _not_ make out with me, so quit being a fucking tease and do it.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” Connor says with a bright laugh, before complying. Between kisses, he climbs over the center console with a ridiculous amount of grace and straddles Evan’s lap, bringing their hips together. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for Connor’s breathing to become uneven, hitched whimpers, and for Evan to start swearing quietly.

-

“Did you tell him how you feel about him?” Jared asks.

Evan shifts his phone against his ear and leans on the gas station door. He lets himself glance over at Connor, who’s filling up gas.

“Uh,” he starts to say, chewing on his bottom lip.

There’s Jared’s laughter in his ear. “ _That_ tells me a lot.”

“No, uh, it’s not what you think.” Evan closes his eyes. “We had sex? We’ve had...a lot of sex.”

“ _What_ _?!”_ Jared shouts. “Holy fucking shit, _what_ —”

“It’s really good,” Evan barrels on. “Like, really unbelievably good, and I want to keep doing it.”

“So do it!”

“No, you don’t get it, we’re—I haven’t told him. I don’t know how he feels about it. I mean, it’s probably like _meaningless_ to him, like he likes me as a friend but that’s all we are and nothing more and he’ll never—he’ll never understand that I—”

“Evan. _Breathe._ ”

Evan _is_ breathing, thank you very much. “Jared, what if...what if it’s just sex to him?” he asks, a sudden lump forming in his throat.

Jared is quiet for a moment. “I think you have to talk to him about that, dude.”

“Ev!” Connor calls. Evan turns around to see him getting into the car. “Come on!”

“One second!” Evan shouts back, voice going up in pitch. Then he tells Jared into the phone, “I have to go.”

“Hey, no,” Jared says. “This is kind of _huge_ for you. Don’t you wanna, like, rehearse what you’re gonna say to him?”

“No I don’t because we’re not gonna talk about it because I’m not gonna say anything to him, I’m not gonna bring it up, okay,” Evan hisses, pulling the phone away from his ear. Ignoring Jared’s muffled protests, he hangs up and stuffs it into his pocket.

“Grand Canyon, here we come,” Connor says when he gets in the car, flashing a grin.

-

The Grand Canyon is better than anything Evan could have ever imagined. It knocks the breath out of him, quite honestly. It’s golden hour, and the parts of the canyon that are thrown into shadow look purple in contrast to the taller, sunlit cliffs, which are yellow and bright orange and incredible. Thousands of feet below, the Colorado River snakes through the gorge, winding and twisting until it disappears between the rocks and Evan can’t find the rest of it.

He makes sure to take lots of pictures to send to his mom. He snaps a few of Connor, too, when he’s not looking. Connor’s back turned to the camera as he looks out at the Canyon. Connor’s profile, with the jagged landscape behind him and the sun in his hair.

He shows Connor that one, and Connor snorts. “That would make a good cover photo.”

“You have a Facebook?”

“Everyone does, Evan.” Connor’s flipping through his guidebook. “Granted, I haven’t used it since middle school, but.”

“Do you think we would have been friends?” Evan asks before he can stop himself.

“On...Facebook?”

“No, like. Back then, do you think maybe—”

“Oh, no way,” Connor says with a harsh laugh. He glances up and purses his lips. “No offense. I was a dick middle school. I didn’t really have _any_ friends.”

Evan nods, and then keeps nodding as he turns to face the view again. “It’s so—I mean, just...”

“Yeah. I keep trying to find something about it to be,” Connor makes a huge sweeping gesture at the canyon, “annoyed by, but I’m kinda coming up empty.”

Face breaking into a smile, Evan inhales deeply. Exhales. “Nature is awesome.”

When he glances over, Connor is staring at him with an unreadable expression. “I guess,” he says quietly. Then, “I’m gonna go find the gift shop. Wanna come?”

Evan would like to stay here a little bit longer and continue to take in this moment, but he shrugs and goes with Connor. They get lost on the way (“I _promise_ you it was by the Visitor Center—” “No, dude, the map said it’s around here...”) but they eventually get to the gift shop. Evan finds a T-shirt with a graphic on it of Bigfoot hiking, complete with a giant backpack and walking stick and even a fanny pack. Connor picks up a very touristy sweatshirt and baseball cap.

“For my mom and Zoe,” he says kind of defensively, as if he’s expecting Evan to laugh or make fun of him for it.

“Cool,” Evan says, smiling. He holds up the Bigfoot shirt. “You think I should get this?”

They buy the stuff. On their walk back to the car, Evan puts the baseball cap on Connor’s head and takes a picture, and resists the urge to set it as his lock screen background, because that would be weird, right? Yeah. But Connor is wearing a dumb tourist hat that says _Grand Canyon National Park_ and he’s sticking his tongue out at Evan and his hand is blurry because he was trying to cover his face, and Evan can’t just let this photo go _unseen,_ okay, so he sends it to Jared and Zoe.

Zoe doesn’t reply, but Jared does, with an eloquent: **bitch what the Fuck is going ON.**

 _If only I knew,_ Evan thinks.

-

They’re walking down the beach a few days later, hand in hand, when Evan realizes he feels so much better than he did three months ago. But then—

But then he glances at Connor in his peripheral vision. Connor has his hair tied back. A few strands have escaped, and the breeze blows them towards Evan, tickling his cheek.

It’s cold. Connor’s wearing a jacket and Evan has on his favorite sweater but it’s somehow not doing anything to comfort him. To calm his nerves. He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious again all of a sudden when he was so _happy_ just a few seconds ago, so happy just last night.

Last night he and Connor built a fort out of pillows and blankets in their motel room, and then they had sex inside of it, laughing when Evan knocked their knees together almost painfully, or when Connor arched his back and caused the roof to come tumbling down on top of them. They kissed lazily under the sheets and fell asleep tangled together like that.

This morning, Evan woke up before Connor and tidied up the room. His back hurt from sleeping on the floor, so he took a long, warm shower. Then he went back to the room and made the bed, and by the time he was done, Connor sat up—he was still on the floor, on top of one of the blankets—and asked if he wanted to go to the beach.

So. Here they are.

Evan digs his toes into the sand, leaning against Connor’s shoulder. Connor turns his head so they’re face to face. Evan closes his eyes, half expecting a mouth pressed to his own, but instead, Connor just says, “Uh, Evan?”

“Yeah?”

A very long pause, and then, “What are we doing?”

Evan pulls away. He looks past Connor, at the cloudy sky and the glittering shore. He feels lucky and unlucky all at once.

“We’re having a good time at the beach,” he replies, voice pitched a little too high. He winces, and Connor does the same.

“You know what I mean.”

Evan sighs. “I do, but—I don’t know. I don’t know what this is.”

Connor seems to consider that, then squeezes Evan’s hand for a moment. “Well,” he says, not quite meeting Evan’s eye. “What do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know,” Evan says again. “I don’t know what I want. I thought I did, but I—it’s like I’m always wrong about everything, even the stuff that has to do with me.”

“You knew you wanted to come with me,” Connor says. “You were right about that.”

“That was a spur of the moment thing.” Evan pulls his hand out of Connor’s grip so that he can tug at the hem of his sweater. “I don’t know how to trust myself.”

“So what?” Connor says as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugs. Hunching in on himself. “You’re scared to make a choice. Scared to commit to the wrong thing. Everyone in the world feels like that.”

And Evan _does_ know one thing he wants for sure, okay, one thing he's wanted for a long time, but he’s tired of the way Connor seems to be fine just dancing around it forever. “What do _you_ want?” he shoots back.

Connor makes a face. He tips his head back to look up at the sky, and then he straightens up and fixes his gaze on Evan. His intense, heart-stopping, stutter-inducing gaze.

“You, I think. I want to date you for real. I want...more than sex. I want to be okay."

Evan kisses him.

“Me too,” he says. “To all of it. Everything you just said. I like you so much it’s kind of ridiculous.”

He wraps his arms around Connor’s neck, and Connor hesitates for the briefest of seconds before his hands come up to rest between Evan’s shoulder blades. He hugs Evan back like he doesn’t plan on letting go.

“What now?” Connor mumbles into the collar of his sweater.

Evan thinks about his bedroom, with the sky blue walls and the Star Wars poster he’s had up since he was eight. His desk, probably still a mess the way he left it. His bed. (God, he misses his bed so much after months of sleeping on stiff mattresses and in the car.) He thinks about visiting Jared at college and playing video games with him in his dorm. He thinks about his mom, and how good it’ll feel to hug her again. He imagines sitting with her on the couch as they eat crappy takeout and he tells her everything about his trip. He thinks about getting another job, and it doesn’t scare the shit out of him. He thinks about scheduling a long overdue appointment with his therapist.

He remembers how, during the summer, he and Connor used to go to the Autumn Smile together. And he realizes that it doesn’t really matter _where_ they are, as long as they’re not trying to avoid their problems. They don’t need to drive and drive and drive anymore in pursuit of a distraction or adventure or happiness.

“Let’s go home,” Evan says, taking Connor’s hand again. He’s ready to face the rest of the world, and he’s ready to help Connor do the same.

**Author's Note:**

> title from alone together by fall out boy
> 
> after working on this one for almost two months, it's finally done! thanks for reading and please leave kudos and comment (your thoughts, feelings, favorite parts, constructive crit) (I live for comments and they make everything worth it)
> 
> and follow me on tumblr @jaredklein!


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